Joe the Henchman In Denial
by Aisling Niamh
Summary: Noir from Joe the Generic Henchman's point of view. Particularly random. Starts off fairly slow. Rated for violence later on.


****

Title: Joe the Henchman-in-Denial

Authoress: Aisling Niamh (Ais)

Rating: PG-13 for mild language and the ever-present and somewhat confusing Some Scary Images later.

Category: Humor/Parody (with perhaps some tragedy thrown in)

Disclaimer: Noir belongs to its creators; this fic belongs to me, not that anybody else would want to claim it. Contains no spoilers that I know of.

Noir from the point of view of the poor innocent henchmen with the generic character design. Although I wrote this on my own, all the credit for the idea and a few other random things go to Hyde. The name Cnute belongs to a very early English king who did a rather large amount of pillaging, plundering, burning, etc. in… modern-day Yorkshire, was it?

Enjoy! (and please read with a sense of humor…a very large sense of humor.)

…………………………………………………………

The obviously corrupt president of the creatively named Acme International, Mr. Cnute Jordan, tapped the file folder twice, shuffling the papers inside into a neat stack, and then tossed it across the table.

"Do you see this, Tom?" he yelled at the flustered underling in the neat gray suit, who caught the file folder in midair. "My—I mean our—profits are down ten percent this past month! Why is that?"

"Well, Mr. Jordan, sir…"

"There's only one solution!" Here the long and dramatic pause was cued.

"…Sir?"

"Dammit, Tom, I tire of your senseless interrupting! Call Joe!"

"Yes, Mr. Jordan, sir."

"And bring me a Sidecar!"

"Yes, Mr. Jordan, sir."

"HURRY, MAN!"

"Yes, Mr. Jordan, sir."

Tom and his suit, square jaw, close-cut hair, and deep voice obeyed.

Before he closed the door, he heard Cnute Jordan bellow, "And bring me some Guatemalan crab salad, too!"

"Yes Mr. Jordan sir!"

The door closed with a bang, and Tom's six-foot-eleven form collapsed against it. "…_Guatemalan_ crab salad?"

…………………………………………………

Joe, a carbon copy of Tom except with a navy blue suit, sat peacefully on a chair in the peculiar-looking entrance hall. He was pretending to be cleaning and oiling his Glock and smoking a tough and/or tuff, manly unfiltered cigarette, but actually he was indulging his secret hobby: sketching the potted plants. (President Cnute Jordan's trophy wife had a strange fondness for them.) Joe was forced to keep this artistic passion a secret, for henchmen aren't supposed to have lives beyond unfiltered Camels, high-powered weaponry, gin, and obeying the Mafia don/corrupt company president/corrupt political official/etc. that they worked for.

Joe paused in his sketch of the dieffenbachia in the corner and looked up in the general direction of the authoress.

"I am not a henchman! I am SO not a henchman!" he yelled in the henchmanlike deep, manly voice, shaking his fist the size of a small ham at the sky.

Yes, Joe. Whatever you say.

Tom came charging in at that moment. "Joe! The boss wants to see you in his office NOW! Al can guard the door for you!" he cried (in the manliest of ways, of course) and charged out again, muttering something about Sidecars.

Joe hastily stuffed the sketchbook into his suit coat pocket and ground out his cigarette in a handy ashtray. (Although it would have been manlier to grind it out under his shoe, the president's trophy wife did not approve of burn marks. She said they didn't go with the Florida Beach House décor. Joe didn't see the beach house aspect; he was greatly reminded of a doctor's office.)

………………………………………………………………..

Joe stood before the doors of the Presidential Office, steeling himself. Just as he was about to raise his hand and knock on the oaken doors, they flew open and Stan stalked out, square jaw and fists clenched, a bowl of some sort of fish salad on his head.

"Stan?"

"AND BRING ME MY SIDECAR!" Cnute Jordan yelled. For a fairly short guy with a combover, he sure yelled at guys who could put a hole through his head a lot.

Stan didn't answer, but simply left, muttering a long, expletive-filled speech to Joe.

For those of you under thirteen, the gist of it was: "Our esteemed president appears not to be in the most clement of moods at this point in time; thus I would recommend attempting not to anger him. I never intended to be a henchman, and though I tried to make the best of that unfortunate turn of events, I am now sincerely considering Giving Notice, as opposed to committing some terrible and violent act upon the person of said esteemed president and employer. And perhaps taking up sculpting or carving as a retirement hobby."

Yeah.

"Mr. Jordan sir, you called, Mr. Jordan sir?" Joe inquired, stepping into the room.

"Yes, yes, I did. Close the door, Joe."

"Yes Mr. Jordan sir."

"Well, since Tom seems to be an incapable failure, you will be taking over the job. The government is, for reasons I _simply cannot fathom_, keeping unusually close tabs on us this year. Our clients are beginning to become restless, causing our profits to drop a full ten-percent in this past month. Now listen closely. I don't want to have to say this more than once—WHAT?" Mr. Jordan bellowed as somebody knocked on the door.

"Bob with your Sidecar, Mr. Jordan sir."

Mr. Jordan (sir) looked a great deal relieved, and ushered Bob in.

"Joe, make a note of this. Send out the notice docking everyone's pay ten-percent, except for yours, Bob's, Stan's and Tom's. Deduct twenty percent from Stan and Tom's and add half of each twenty to both of yours. GOT IT?"

"Yes Mr. Jordan sir."

"Then write out the pay-docking-and-adding-governmental-forms in number two pencil, make copies in triplicate, and send copies to each of the major governmental stations and army bases, afterwards filing them away in the damn-governmental-forms-we-are-now-forced-to-fill-out file. Got it?"

"Yes Mr. Jordan sir."

Bob had salaamed (or something akin to such) out of the office, and Joe wandered out to find the Pay Docking and Adding of Employees Governmental Forms to Be Filled Out In Number Two Pencil (PDAEGFFONTP).

……………………………………………

Well, that was random.

I believe there were actually two King Cnutes. And I can't for the life of me remember if it was Yorkshire he pillaged or not. Not like it matters, you know. It just means I need more to do.

All reviews appreciated.

-----Ais


End file.
